The Amarnan Kings, Book 1: Scarab - Akhenaten

by Overton, Max

  He had arrived in Akhet-Aten the day after the attempted coup by Ay and Nefertiti to find the capital city buzzing with rumors. Brought before the king--by Ay of all people who had managed to wriggle out of danger--he was apprised of the reason for his summons. Akhenaten embraced him, acknowledging him, in the absence of a son of the King's Body, as his heir. Arrangements were already in train for the coronation, when Smenkhkare would be raised to the throne as co-regent. This had been Ay's original plan, to install a boy as king and manage him from behind the throne. Then Nefertiti's disgrace had offered him a more pliant puppet and I believe if the coup had succeeded, Ay would not have let my brother live. As things turned out, he was forced to change his plans and my brother became useful again. Smenkhkare was to rule over the whole of Kemet from Waset, with Ay's help, while Akhenaten, though maintaining his position as senior co-regent, would rule over Akhet-Aten and continue to be the sole channel for the grace of the Aten.

  The coronation itself was not elaborate. Akhenaten refused once more to allow any of the old gods of Kemet any part in the proceedings, calling on the Aten to bless his brother and to guide him. Smenkhkare persuaded Akhenaten to remove the appellation of Aten in his coronation names though, taking on further Re names instead. He ever had an eye on the reunification of Kemet under the old gods and knew an Aten name would work against him. So my beloved brother became king and co-regent of the Two Lands, Ankhkheperure Djeserkheperure Smenkhkare. Akhenaten, still suffering from the defection of his wife, and reluctant to share any real power with his daughter Meryetaten whom he now saw as a willful little girl, often addressed Smenkhkare as Neferneferuaten, Nefertiti's former appellation, even to the extent of calling him this in official inscriptions. It was regarded as another sign of Akhenaten's failing mind.

  The city celebrated the coronation but the festivities were strained. Even a populace as carefree and hedonistic as Akhet-Aten's, became tired of continuous rejoicing. Nobody in the capital knew Smenkhkare or recognized the abilities this handsome man possessed. There was a feeling of unease too. Rumors of the attempted coup were rife, with much speculation as to the fate of Nefertiti. Ay, despite his involvement, appeared unscathed and if anything, in a more powerful position than he had been before. The king moved out of the great palace into the smaller North Palace, even moving into the rooms used by Nefertiti so briefly. He withdrew into himself, only venturing out to conduct the morning, noon and sunset services to the Aten in the Great Temple. Refusing any involvement in the running of the country, Akhenaten leaned heavily on Ay's strong arm, allowing this traitor as much power as he had sought through his daughter's coup. Only Smenkhkare stood between him and total domination of Kemet.

  I met Ay the day I arrived back in Akhet-Aten. Brought before the king, I saw to my horror that my uncle was firmly in place at Akhenaten's side. The king greeted me with a warm embrace, before inviting me to greet my uncle Ay. Without thinking I blurted out my accusations, not understanding why he had his liberty.

  The king looked at me with a sad smile. "Dear Beketaten, I do not doubt that you overheard the Divine Father and...and that woman speaking. It is because you are a child that you failed to recognize the difference between the treason of that woman and the loyalty of my beloved Ay. He acted bravely on my behalf and has been cleared of all charges." Akhenaten laid a hand on Ay's arm, smiling up at him. "The Divine Father Ay is my strong right arm. Now, embrace your uncle, child, and offer him your apology and no more will be said."

  I remained frozen in place but Ay came down from the throne dais and embraced me, letting me feel the strength in his arms and broad shoulders. He kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. "I shall not forget what you have done, Beketaten." Stepping back with a smile, he released me and, finding I had control of my limbs once more, I bowed to the king and left the audience chamber.

  My position in Akhet-Aten had changed, as had my position in the lives of all those I knew. I never really had a father--I have related how Nebmaetre failed in this duty, though through no fault of his own. My mother Tiye paid me scant attention and I had never felt close to her. The nearest I ever came to having a mother was during my few months as one of Akhenaten and Nefertiti's 'garland of princesses' in Akhet-Aten, but now Nefertiti had gone.

  It was many years before I found out exactly what happened to her. All I knew at the time was that she had been exiled. One of the conditions by which her husband allowed her to live was that she leave the Two Lands forever. Neither the king nor Ay ever spoke of her again. The memory of her, apart from the paintings and sculptures adorning tombs and public buildings, faded with the passing of time. The only other person to know of her place of exile was Paatenemheb. Two days after my return he left Akhet-Aten with a small squad of picked soldiers and with them went a closed sedan chair, the curtains closely drawn despite the heat. I believe Nefertiti was in it as they headed up the valley of the royal tombs, heading north and east into the desert. There is not much in that direction except the Wilderness of Sin, for Nefertiti would never be allowed into Syria. The danger of her being captured and held hostage was too great. If Sin was her destination I can pity her for it is a barren and demon-infested land, bare rock and sand, almost waterless, inhabited by nomadic shepherds and bandits. Kemet maintains outposts there, lonely copper and turquoise mines where dedicated miners sift the rock for metal and gem, where slaves toil and die, and where soldiers curse their fate and dream of the cool green river valley of home. It is a place where beauty shrivels and the mind turns inward upon itself.

  So there was little in Akhet-Aten to hold me there and one good reason--Ay--for me to leave. I decided I would follow my brother to Waset. It was a place I loved, and the two men my heart sang to would be there, Smenkhkare and Paramessu.

  I must admit Smenkhkare had changed too. When I first saw him, I screamed his name out loud and ran to him, throwing my arms about him. He was friendly but restrained, disentangling my limbs and, sitting me down, listened as I told him everything. After a while he excused himself and left me feeling let down and puzzled. I took my woes to Paramessu.

  "He has changed, Paramessu. He no longer loves me. But why? What have I done?" I wailed.

  "Of course he has changed, Scarab," Paramessu said gently. "When you played together in Waset he was a boy and you a girl, without cares or worries. Now he is a king and a man, with all the joys and sorrows that go with it. He feels overcome by it all and feels he must face the future alone."

  "But I love him. I would willingly face the future with him."

  "Yes, and I'm sure he loves you still. Remember you have changed too. When last you saw him, you were an innocent and naive girl but now when he looks at you he sees a woman, strong and resourceful. A woman who has saved Kemet." Paramessu sat down next to me and took my hands in his. "Your brother carries the weight of Kemet on his shoulders and at the moment it crushes him. Be patient and he will grow accustomed to his burden. Then he will realize that his sister Scarab is the most precious item in his treasury."

  It was not exactly what I wanted to hear but after thinking about it for a few minutes I realized the future did not look as bleak as I thought.

  "Perhaps I should go back to Waset," I said. "Akhet-Aten does not seem safe now that Ay almost rules here."

  "I think that would be a good idea, Scarab. Why don't you come with me? I have been put in charge of the escort taking Smenkhkare back to Waset and I'm sure he...and I," he added, smiling, "Would be happy to have you on the Royal Barge. We leave in five days."

  "You are going to be in Waset too?" I threw my arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him. After a moment I felt him return the kiss, then he gently untangled himself and drew back.

  "I am not staying in Waset. My duties call me south to Qerert, then north to the Syrian border again."

  "I could come with you."

  Paramessu smiled gently, his voice tender but firm. "I am a soldier, Scarab. I go where my general bids, often living hard and off the
land. You are a princess, sister to two kings. Our worlds have touched briefly but now we must go our own ways."

  I felt the abyss opening again. "You do not want me?" I said in a small voice.

  "More than anything, but your place is at your brother's side and mine is fighting Kemet's enemies."

  "You will come back to me, Paramessu?"

  "One day, little Scarab, but not soon. Maybe the world will change and a soldier can...can be with a princess. Or maybe you will change your mind."

  "Never," I said, with all the certainty of the very young.

  We left Akhet-Aten five days later, aboard the Royal Barge that had brought Smenkhkare from Waset. Akhenaten and Ay came down to the docks to see us off, the occasion formal and filled with pomp and spectacle. The two kings of Kemet bade farewell to each other, the old king weary and bowed, his mind not on the speeches but wandering as he lifted his gaze to the blazing disk of Aten above us; the young king full of energy and enthusiasm, eager to be away from this capital city that was now a backwater of the kingdom.

  Ay watched and waited, his cold, calculating eyes sifting and weighing, standing next to Akhenaten. Though older by far, and shorter, Ay looked to be the king, supporting an old bent man as he waved farewell to the future.

  We sailed south, the rowers straining to push the heavy gilded barge against the current. Smenkhkare sat on a light wooden chair under an awning set up in the middle of the boat, his face turned to the warm breeze from the south, sniffing the air as if he could read what was to come. He saw me and beckoned.

  "Come, little Scarab, sit beside me. We have ..."

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  * * *

  Epilogue

  "Come, little Scarab, sit beside me. We have ..."

  "That's it. The writing runs out at this point." Dani pointed at the wall where the tightly packed hieroglyphs petered out in a patch of flaking mortar close to the bottom of the final wall. "End of story, folks."

  "Jeez, you're kidding! That's no place to end a story."

  "What happened?" Doris wailed. "I want to know. Did Scarab marry her soldier? Did she become a queen? What do the history books say, Doctor Hanser?"

  "I believe you'll find them quiet on that point," Daffyd said in his sing-song Welsh accent. "Very little is known about Beketaten. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this tomb," he gestured around at the walls. "This tomb, if that's what it is, presents a wealth of new knowledge."

  "Really?" Bob said, looking up from where he sat cross-legged on the floor. "What was new? I thought archeologists knew just about everything about Egypt. They've been studying it long enough."

  Daffyd laughed and pulled out his tin of tobacco from the pocket of his jacket. "Where do you want me to start?" He carefully rolled himself a cigarette and lit it, the smoke curling up into the darkness. "The origins of Aten worship, for instance; or the parents of king Tut; or what happened to Nefertiti. History just says she disappears around Year 14 of Akhenaten's reign. Now we know."

  "If it's true," Marc commented. "Can we really guarantee any of this is accurate? It may just be some propaganda exercise written long after the events by an odd bod for some purpose of his own."

  "Oh, that would be really bad," Angela said. "Fancy making up a detailed story like this."

  "And an exciting one," Doris added. "I want to know what happens next."

  "If you can't stand not knowing, you're in the wrong game, Doris," Al drawled. "Archeology often raises more questions than it answers."

  "The guy may not even have been an Egyptian," Marc went on. "Maybe he just wanted to hurt their reputations."

  "So why hide it away so effectively?" Daffyd blew a cloud of smoke up toward the ceiling of the chamber. "I'll bet we are the first to see this room in over three thousand years. It's a bit hard to hurt reputations this late in the game."

  "He was Egyptian," Dani said quietly. "Or rather 'she'."

  Marc stroked his luxuriant beard contemplatively. "You think the author really was this Beketaten lassie?"

  "Yes, I do. The language and phrasing is New Kingdom despite its informality. There is a wealth of detail about the royal family that just would not be available to an outsider, and the impression I get is partly that of an old woman looking back on the events of her life, and partly that of a young girl actually experiencing these things as she talks."

  "If Beketaten became an old woman," Angela said slowly. "Then why does the story break off so abruptly at such an early age?"

  "The sudden breaking off is easy. See here?" Dani pointed to the bottom of the wall. "Water has got in at some stage and peeled the mortar from the underlying rock. You can be certain there was more written on this section but it's illegible now." She scanned the previous lines of script, then looked back at the missing section. "I'd say you have her trip to Thebes in this part, probably finishing with her arrival there."

  "What a bloody unsatisfying place to end though," Bob grumbled.

  "Think about it, boyo." Daffyd stubbed out his cigarette on his tin of tobacco, put the tin back in his jacket pocket and the stub into his jeans. "Here we have a tomb or at least a chamber with a detailed life history of a woman--well, still a girl actually--that ends in Thebes, not Syria." He grinned. "What does that suggest?"

  "What do you mean?" Doris asked. "Are you saying she dies in Thebes?"

  "Don't be a goose, Doris," Angela laughed. "How can she die in Thebes if she writes this story up here in Syria?"

  "So what does it suggest, Daffyd? Are you going to tell us?"

  "Doctor Hanser?" Daffyd smiled and made an elegant bow in her direction.

  "It suggests this is not the whole story," Dani said slowly, staring at the Welshman. "There is more."

  "Where?" Marc asked. "We've examined the whole chamber."

  "Perhaps there's another one then boyo."

  "Then let me repeat myself--where?"

  "Where was this first chamber? Hidden behind a layer of mortar." Daffyd spun on his heel, his outstretched arm describing a full circle. "Everywhere I look I see a layer of mortar."

  "Jeez Louise."

  Everyone scrambled to their feet and stared around the dimly lit chamber, the light of flashlights and lanterns reflecting off the white walls and vibrant colours in a dazzling coruscation.

  "Another chamber," Al chortled. "Of course. Let's get looking, guys and dolls."

  "Before you do, there is something I'd like you to think about," Dani said. "We are in Syria, officially on an archeological dig looking for the Neanderthal migration route. We have stumbled on what may be the find of the century after king Tut's tomb, but we are not equipped to deal even with this chamber, let alone anything else that might be here." She looked at her watch. "In case you haven't noticed, the permit for our dig runs out this morning, in about nine hours. If we don't pack up today, the authorities are going to want to know why."

  Marc whistled. "We've been here all night? Man, where does the time go?"

  "So what's wrong with telling them?" Doris asked. "They'll be pleased, won't they?"

  "Probably very pleased," cut in Daffyd. "But not with us."

  "Daffyd's right," Dani continued. "We are not Egyptologists. We should never have opened this chamber in the first place. We might be able to argue ignorance of what we had found when we first broke in, but not after this lot. They'll bring in their own team of Egyptologists and if we are lucky we'll read about it in the scientific journals ten years from now."

  "And we'll probably be persona non bloody grata," Bob grumbled.

  "Language, Bob," Angela corrected with a smile.

  "Yup. Last time we get invited to Syria. Damascus gets rather upset with foreigners plundering their artifacts."

  "We're not plundering," Angela protested. "We haven't taken a thing."

  "Doesn't matter," Dani said. "We entered a chamber of probable historical importance without the proper permits ..."

  "We didn't know when we opened it."

  "... and h
aving entered it and found out the significance, we didn't immediately stop and notify Damascus."

  Dani looked around the gloomy faces of her archeological team. Nobody said anything, the only sound in the chamber being the hiss of the gas lanterns. "We got into this together," she said at last. "So we decide together. What do we do?"

  "What can we do?" Doris asked.

  "It's a good point to start," Marc agreed. "What are our options?"

  "Tell Damascus and takes our licks," Al grinned.

  "Okay boyo, it's an option," Daffyd said. "But for God's sake be serious about this. It's no joking matter."

  "Report it immediately then," Al continued. "We say we just found it accidentally. After all, we do have the mud and earth that fell away from the rock face outside."

  "Don't tell 'em. We found it; we should get to excavate it," Bob said vehemently.

  "Anything else?" Dani asked. "Any other ideas?"

  "Fill in the hole," Daffyd said slowly. "Fill it in, plaster over the entrance and forget we ever saw it."

  "You're not serious? You mean you could just walk away from this discovery?"

  Daffyd shook his head. "No. It's just an option. We need to think of them all. Another might be to cover it up and come back to try again next year."